Breathe
by Ok Yong
Summary: With silence and tattered maps, Pendragon, we all fall—the War for Halla through Alder's eyes.
1. Life One

_There are, I think, three kinds of Travelers. _

_There are the omniscient enigmas. That is the best way to describe them, I believe. They know all the answers and they can do everything as well. They are mysterious, hiding the source of their abilities and knowledge My brother comes to mind immediately—only natural—but Press and Osa are just as fitting of the title "omniscient enigma" as he._

_There are the ones who are not omniscient enigmas. They do not know all and cannot do all. Yet, they still manage to get by. And not only do they get by, they will likely complete the task at hand with flying colors—that is a Second Earth term, my brother tells me. Those are the ones like Pendragon and Loor—and, for that matter, any other Traveler. They still can manage to pull through in the end, despite no preparation. They can rise to the occasion beautifully._

_And then there's me._

-Excerpt from _Journal 20_, as written by the Traveler of Denduron


	2. Birth

_"The name 'Pendragon' means 'Lead Dragon.' He is the Lead Traveler. How fitting. The name 'Loor' means 'second in command,' yet another fitting name—although Loor once told me that she did not approve of such a 'demeaning' name, as she called it. She dislikes second-best._

_I could say my own name is unfitting, but rather, I simply think it makes no sense. It is a very strange name."_

-Excerpt from _Journal 18_, as written by the Traveler of Denduron

He was came in a time of political turmoil. The Milago were beginning to argue the uselessness of the Bedoowan "protection," and thus a political answer had to be reached. Hence turmoil. The Bedoowan king wrestled with advisors and councils day in and day out, fighting for some sort of answer. Even his heirs could not support him in any conclusive answer for what to do with the two tribes—but then again, for the most part, his heirs were an indecisive bunch to begin with. His heirs were ditzes, all of them.

But nonetheless, this was not going to change the Bedoowan-Milago relations overnight. Hoane was still a fine and practical midwife, even at age forty-six. She might not have been taught by those fancy Bedoowan nurses with their medicines and books and rituals, but she'd been taught by her mother, who'd been taught by _her_ mother. Hoane knew the sweat and tears and grit and blood of childbirth. She was a fine midwife, even without those fancy medicines.

She was called to the fortress, and from what she could see of the corridors she walked—with her Bedoowan escort, so she wouldn't get lost—to reach the birthing rooms, the fortress was quite bare, honestly, even if elaborate and massive. She wasn't surprised. The crops the Milago produced were not enough to trade for extremely expensive things. She supposed if the Milago instead mined glaze and the Bedoowan were then able to trade glaze instead of just crops, the Bedoowan would be able to earn more than enough quills to buy all the fancy things they wanted.

But for now, a few scraps of triptyte lighting from the Lowsee—hundreds and hundreds of bushels of crops for a single strip of triptyte, Hoane had heard—and imported Novan servants were all the Bedoowan could afford. Maybe more than they could afford. The Bedoowan were looking a little thin, Hoane noticed. The Milago weren't supplying enough crops. Hoane decided she's send word to Rellin after this, and no doubt Rellin would demand everyone work harder to help the Bedoowan, even if there was tension between the Bedoowan and Milago. It wasn't a full-blown war, and Rellin would still hold firm that the Bedoowan were their allies that they should help to the best of their ability. It wasn't like the Bedoowan were demanding they mine the deadly glaze. That would be the only thing Rellin wouldn't stand for.

But Hoane was glad that things hadn't changed between the Bedoowan and the Milago too much yet. She felt like an old woman, and change was not high on her list of things she wanted in life. She'd continue to do her job when needed, help her husband in the fields, and care for her only son. And, of course, wait for their next, Hoane thought with a smile. She was old for that kind of thing, but she'd handle the childbirth.

"In here," her Bedoowan escort said, gesturing to a door with a thick arm. He was short and stocky, age around thirty. He had a bit of a beefy smoothness to him, and he looked strong. He was obviously not a knight—knights were frighteningly athletic—but Hoane was very glad he was only her escort. He looked strong enough that if he were not an ally, Hoane would not dare go near him. She tried not to let her thoughts show and nodded, entering through the door.

What she saw when she entered the birthing room appeared normal at first—a clearly pregnant woman on the bed and a father standing nearby. But what was odd was that the woman on the bed looked completely at peace, as if there was no pain. What of labor? That made Hoane pause for a moment. And then she realized that there were no Novan servants, nor a Bedoowan doctor, in this room. The Novans would play the nurses and a Bedoowan doctor should be here to help the midwife with medicines and such. Why weren't they here?

"We have been waiting for you," said the father, turning calmly towards Hoane. "Now that you're here, we might be able to start."

Hoane's alarm sense went off. Something was definitely weird. Fathers were never calm unless they've been through the birthing process before, and even if they had, they often were still borderline hysterical.

"I suppose we should start," Hoane agreed, but warily. "I need to know how long as she been in—"

A large hand set itself on Hoane's shoulder, perhaps a little harder than necessary, and Hoane gasped and whipped around. It was, in fact, the Bedoowan who had escorted her through the castle.

Suddenly he looked a lot more menacing.

"Relax," he told her, and his voice was deep. He pulled up a chair. "Relax and sit down."

"But what about—"

"The child?" The beefy Bedoowan laughed. "Do not mind the child. Sit. We are waiting for our last two guests."

"Guests?" Hoane was bewildered. "I am here to assist in this woman's birth!"

"Not exactly," was the answer, and the door shut ominously behind the Bedoowan.

Hoane did, indeed, sit, more from weak legs than anything. What was going on? She was here as a midwife, was she not? Was she in danger? She had a husband waiting for her! Her husband and a child back at the Milago village were waiting for her, not to mention she carried another, Hoane thought as she idly rubbed her stomach. Then she rubbed her temples, trying to organize panicking thoughts. She definitely could not let anything happen to her. But what was telling her that something _was_ going to happen? All this weirdness didn't necessarily mean she was going to die. Calm down, Hoane. Calm down.

But then a sudden thought occurred to her, and she glanced warily around the dimly-lit room at the silent, pregnant woman on the bed, the stoic father, standing with his arms crossed, and the large Bedoowan guarding the door. Was this because of the new Milago protests? The Bedoowan-Milago tension? But the Bedoowan king was a peaceful man. He was even supporting the idea of merging the two tribes. Would he really order these people to capture her and perhaps hold her ransom? Or even execute her? Her breath came out in shaky starts and stops. Hoane was too old for this. Perhaps her nerves were fried. Perhaps she was overreacting. Perhaps she wasn't going to die. Perhaps a massive Bedoowan looming over her shoulder, breathing down her neck did not necessarily mean something bad would happen.

Okay, maybe it did.

The door creaked open, and Hoane's head snapped towards it, envisioning an entire squad of Bedoowan knights charging through to capture her. But only a small boy's head appeared from behind the door. From the eerily mature look in his eye, Hoane wished that squad had come through the door instead of the head of that six-year-old boy. There was nothing terribly frightening about this boy—in fact, he seemed calming. It was the maturity in his eyes that was calming, and that was partly what scared Hoane. He seemed much too mature for his age. For any age. Not even the Milago elders had quite the same look as this boy.

His dark eyes settled on Hoane, and Hoane shivered, now trembling in her chair. "Midoon," the boy sighed, "did you scare her?"

"Of course not," the large Bedoowan chuckled.

Shaking his head, the door opened all the way and the boy stepped through, a newborn infant in his hands, wrapped in a white cloth. Hoane's eyes narrowed. A newborn? If the child had already been born, why was she here? The boy seated himself gently on a chair and wiggled, making himself comfortable, and his short legs dangled off into space, being too short to touch the ground.

"Is she good?" the stocky Bedoowan asked, almost apprehensively, obviously referring to Hoane. What, thought Hoane, am I some sort of cattle to be examined and evaluated?

"We may begin," said the boy instead of a straight answer, and the woman on the bed sat up, the father visibly turned his attention to the boy, and Bedoowan named Midoon positioned himself by the boy's side like a bodyguard, somewhat triumphantly. It was like the boy was the leader of this show, and now that the boy had given the cue, all else were preparing themselves for the real deal. But the boy ignored all this, as if he expected this, and turned to Hoane.

"What is your name?"

Hoane gulped, considering lying for a moment, but something told her this boy would know anyway. She told him, stuttering slightly.

The boy smiled, and Hoane saw one of his teeth were crooked and he was missing another. "Thank you. And thank you," the boy said, eyes flickering to Midoon, "for arranging this. For bringing Hoane. She is the type I have been looking for."

"Took eleven too many tries," Midoon muttered.

"But, despite your twelve efforts, we have found one who is just what I need. You did well," the boy complimented with a smile, earning a pleased grin from Midoon, and Hoane frowned at the sudden exchange that seemed to imply she didn't exist anymore. No sooner had the thought popped into her head did the boy give his full attention to her once again, somewhat apologetically. "Excuse us. As for myself, my name is Cade."

Hoane blinked. Her husband was named Cade. What a coincidence! It was a strong name, she reflected. It was supposed to mean "the untold knight," in reference to an old Lowsee folk tale. She was fond of the name.

Cade continued despite her wandering thoughts. "This," Cade gestured to the large Bedoowan, "is Midoon."

Hoane didn't bother to tell him she'd figured that one out. Instead she nodded, folded her hands in her lap, and tried her best not to tremble. The look in Cade's eyes still scared her, and the beefy Bedoowan was making her nervous.

"We are here because we need you to hold witness to a birth," said Cade, eyes unwaveringly locked with Hoane's. "This child's birth, to be exact." Cade nodded to the sleeping child he held in his arms.

"But it—he—she—?" Hoane trailed off, unsure of the gender.

"He."

"But he is already born," Hoane protested. "How can I hold witness to a birth I did not see?"

"Nonetheless," Cade said, voice calm, "when asked, you must declare that you have seen the birth of this child with your own two eyes."

"Cade," Midoon interrupted suddenly.

"Yes?"

"Not…that it is my place to be questioning you, being merely an acolyte," the large Bedoowan told the child, almost respectfully, "but are you _sure_?"

"Press left no specific instructions," Cade stated, voice flat. "Without guidance from a Lead Traveler, Travelers of either generation are technically free to do whatever they wish. This is how I perform my duties. I have chosen Hoane and I expect she will be a fine acolyte."

"There is the idea of Saangi," Midoon argued, but his voice kept that oddly respectful tinge. "Osa plans for a foster sister. Why not give him a foster brother for his acolyte?"

"_I_ am his brother," said Cade sharply, as if stung Midoon would even suggest such a thing.

"I cannot help but think," Midoon mumbled, "an uncle would be better…"

"Press will be the cold man that he is. Do not blame him for his actions. He has," and Cade paused slightly to smile thinly, "his reasons." Cade looked down, almost lovingly, at the child in his arms. "I believe I am correct, however. And he will learn that. Press simply does not see because of the...recent events."

Hoane stared, absolutely bewildered. What in the name of the suns was going on? She had come here expecting a harsh night of assisted birth. This was nothing even remotely close to what she had expected. Panic was rising within her, as well as confusion and a need for answers.

Midoon fell silent after that, and Cade turned back to Hoane, gaze even more determined and chilling than before. "Hoane," he said seriously, "you have helped give birth to this child. Remember that. As far as anyone needs to know, that is the truth."

But by then, Hoane had had enough. Enough of this mature child, of the talk she knew nothing of, of not having answers."

"W-What's going on?" Hoane stammered, finally finding her tongue. She sounded scared and desperate.

Midoon and Cade exchanged glances before Cade shook his head. "I have specific instructions not to allow any information than necessary be given to either acolyte or Traveler. I am sorry, Hoane. I cannot answer that question."

"From who?" Hoane demanded, standing. "Who are you taking orders from?"

Cade did not reply, but continued to sit with the baby in his arms, gaze steady.

"Who are they?" Pointing wildly at the "father" and "mother" on the bed, Hoane hissed, "They are not the parents of that child. For all I know, you have kidnapped that child."

The "father" and "mother" seemed to sigh in unison, but waited silently for Cade to take care of it. Midoon stepped forward menacingly, but Cade shook his head, and Midoon retreated. "Trust me," commanded Cade. "Trust me and if asked, say this child is the biological son of these two."

Hoane was about to yell an emphatic "No!" when she saw the look in in the child's eye. The breath caught in Hoane's throat, and before she knew it, she was about to nod, all her fear suddenly gone. She refrained from nodding just in time, but was silent, neither giving consent nor refusal.

"Thank you," said Cade with another toothy smile, perhaps knowing what she'd been about to do.

"I never said I would do it," Hoane replied icily.

Cade smiled condescendingly. "Now, with that taken care of," he announced, ignoring what she'd just said, "if you will, Midoon, please find Rone."

Midoon left quickly, leaving Hoane with the boy and "parents" in the birthing room. "Rone and Hoane, rhyme and hyme," Cade sang softly, finding this funny and laughing softly. His laugh was high from six-year-old vocal chords, but was like no other child laugh Hoane had ever heard. After that, it was ten tense, quiet minutes before Midoon returned with a ten-year-old Novan boy. Hoane shivered. Novans always scared her with their regulated responses, emotionless faces, fluidly exact movements, white skin, and utter silence. She didn't know why the Bedoowan had taken the Novans in as their servants. They already had Milago servants working in the fortress, so why did they need more?

"Rone is our personal Novan," Cade said with another smile. He turned to the Novan. "Rone, the child has been born. You may take Hoane, our helpful midwife, with him to be inspected." Midoon seemed to roll his eyes, as if he thought that such a procedure was pointless, and for some reason, Hoane thought that it probably was. Hoane would bet her left foot the child was perfectly healthy for some inexplicable reason. "You will go with him for the child inspection," Cade told Hoane. "If you do not know, they will inspect the child for health defects to determine what kind of roles he may be allowed to take in society in later life. If there is a defect of any sort, he will be detained from the possibility of knighthood."

Hoane did know the regulations on newborns, actually. "I never said I would do it," she repeated, but she simply stood to follow the Novan. She didn't know how, but suddenly she knew why a large Bedoowan like Midoon would follow Cade, a six-year-old boy so willingly. It was unlike anything she had ever felt, the calmness that had descended upon her.

Rone took the child gently, but his face never changed and his body was stiff. Completely apathetic. Exactly why Hoane disliked Novans. "Oh, and Rone?" Cade said as the Novan was about to leave. "I hear you have received a sister, the second servant to be given to our family?"

The Novan boy nodded stiffly.

"Three months old?"

Another stiff nod.

"Her name is Rane, correct?"

A third nod.

"Rane means life," Cade noted. "A well-chosen name. Forgive me for asking, but just so I do not assume incorrectly, she is not a biological sister, am I right?"

Rone nodded. Each of his four nods had been exactly the same.

"From who?"

Rone hesitated. Hoane had never seen a Novan hesitate. Hoane didn't know what it meant, but Cade seemed to. "Ah…the Servant Policy."

Hoane blinked in realization. Novan who had been sent overseas specifically to become servants were never allowed to know their biological family. They were taken in by a random Novan of a similarly random age. The older Novan would raise the younger Novan from as young as days old, becoming the only family that the Novan would ever receive in their life. Most, if not all, of these relationships between the Novan who raised the other were cut off due to duty. To call this "Rane" child a sister of Rone was a very odd concept and unusual, as Rone was simply taking care of her until she was read to work as a servant independently, which should be around the young age of five for a Novan.

"Well," Cade said with a sense of finality, hopping off his chair and coming to stand with her and Rone in the empty corridor outside the birthing room, "I suppose this is where we part. Until next time, Hoane. I have a meeting to attend to." And he pressed a gray, clunky ring into her hand, pulling her down to his level to stare her in the eye.

"Take this ring," he said softly. "Do not lose it."

Hoane opened her mouth and began, "What is—" but Cade cut her off again.

"Remember this ring. Remember me. And remember him."

Hoane's eyes darted to the child in the silent Rone's grasp, and Cade nodded. With that, Cade slipped the ring over her finger and turned away, intending to leave, his six-year-old child feet pattering on the smooth floor of the Bedoowan fortress. Hoane's mouth made its move before her brain did. "If you do not mind me pointing out," Hoane said slowly, finding herself using the same respectful tone as Midoon, "I do not know his name." She paused, then went ahead.

"After all, I am the midwife who helped birth him. I should know these kinds of things, correct?"

Cade cast a glance back but didn't stop. "I thought you said you would not cooperate." He seemed to be laughing silently.

She gave him a lifted eyebrow, the same she often gave her own husband, Cade. "The name?"

Cade didn't even look back.

"Alder."


End file.
